The other day I got involved in a tangent.
The discussion orbited around the dispersion of women in the workforce. The discussion went the normal direction that these kinds of discussions go. Why isn't the workforce a statistical representation of the population?
The natural flow of the conversation does not account for enough factors. It relies on idealism and statistics. It may sound that I am anti diversity, but far from it. The truth is that it will take time for that kind of equality to happen. Generations is the likely timeframe we are looking at. Not years. The other thought is that not all jobs appeal to all people across the spectrum. Perhaps there aren't enough aspiring female crab fisherpeople or CEO's or aspiring male administrative assistants.
Well the discussion becomes even more complex when considering ethnic background. Or are people the same across ethnic lines and have the same internal interests and only outwardly different? No I think our background builds our values. Our values determine the kind of work we will do.
I will now refute the claim that "a job is a job." That is simply untrue. It can be true that people do not enjoy the work that they do but they have the option of doing something they enjoy or settling for something they find to be laborious. Do CEO's say "hey it's a job"? No. Everyone always has the option of doing something they would enjoy versus something that may either pay the bills or be convenient. That is up to the individual and how much they have bought into that futile rhetoric.
Lastly, how likely are children to do something the same or similar to their parents? or family? Without the exposure to certain professions a child may never determine to pursue such a career.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
I know where I've been.
I know of the Irish very little. I have been surrounded for most of my life with the Americanized version of their culture. I like to imagine that it is a very poor representation. The drinking, fighting, and breakfast cereal endorsements do not seem to fit a functioning society. I’ve been to Ireland, sort of. It was really Belfast, which the Irish want back. It’s still full of Irish or “Ulster Scots” depending on who you ask. Let me recount my experience in Northern Ireland.
I was living in Leeds England for the summer with two other people. We were Americans who had come to volunteer with a church. For most weeks we went on an excursion somewhere in the UK just to see the sights. This day the team hopped on a plane to Belfast. The flight was short and we were grateful for small blessings. The weather was so brisk when we got off the plane. I say brisk but what I really mean is cold, it was really cold. It had easily been 80º F in Leeds but when we arrived it felt like 50º. It doesn’t sound cold now but in the midst of summer it was quite a change of pace. That day the skies were very grey, they looked like rain but none ever came.
The first obstacle to overcome was finding a ride into the city. There were some very slow looking bendy buses, a few yellow cabs, and other assorted vehicles. Then my team saw it. There was a Jaguar in all of the rabble. I had never been in one and neither had my teammates. I can’t remember whose idea it was, but someone convinced the rest that we should totally take a ‘Jag’ to the city. I didn’t need to be convinced, we only had to persuade the driver to take us. As I stared out those windows I spoke very little. The silence was awkward but it allowed me to do what I like to do best while a passenger. I sat and stared out at the landscape as it swept by. I was often astonished that such an old country wasn’t drastically overpopulated. I imagined that Europe with all it’s history would have a more vast populous than my homeland. The other detail that caught my attention were the trees, or the lack of trees. The hills rolled on and on and they were covered with grasses and shrubs but not trees so much. It astounded me more than anyone else. It felt like there was a nakedness to the land, or perhaps it was instead immodestly dressed.
Belfast itself was not unlike other cites, it had streets and sidewalks that hemmed in buildings and small patches of grass. We had a bit of a miss with the meeting place. Paranoia helped us to wrongly decide that we should walk away from where we were. Down one street and up the next, the neighborhood was very quiet. Banners and flags hung from everywhere. They weren’t Irish flags but the English flag with a hand in the middle. It was a world cup year and an abundance of flags was the norm. We walked down one street to what seemed like a main street and every few blocks we could see piles of wood stacked ten or twelve feet high. It was all very curious. A timely phone call and a few minutes of retraced steps later we met up with our friends from the Belfast team. They did what we did but in a different locale.
Hugs and handshakes started our official tour of Belfast. We asked questions and got updates from all our friends. They even brought along a local kid who was gonna show us the town. We quickly stopped in at the house they all stayed at and got a cup of tea, as is custom. I discovered that those flags denote the “Ulster Scots” and many in Northern Ireland do not see themselves as “Irish.” Most importantly I discovered those piles of wood were not rubbish but instead they were for “The March of Orange” which is a huge celebration in Northern Ireland where they march to the border to snub their noses at the Republic of Ireland. Like a sibling who doesn’t want to admit that they are in the same family, very few would admit to being ‘Irish.’
In town we rode buses to everywhere we wanted to go. We wandered down to the markets and poked our heads in to stores looking for some “Irish” wares. I wanted a Claddagh ring for sure, my teammates wanted postcards. Whenever we mentioned it our teen guide would get very uneasy, looking around, whispering to us that the violence isn’t completely over yet. We finally came to a shop that we could call “Irish” they sold Claddagh rings, shillelagh, a silver scale replica of the Titanic, there was a lot of green. I picked out my ring and then we were on our way to see the sights. There were new buildings and old buildings and all done in a normal western style. Huge statues were in front of the Government building, there was great craftsmanship in these structures. From there we had to do the one thing we had not yet done in Europe.
Hopping a bus in the opposite direction we went away from the city center and towards the coast. We were going to a castle! I had never been to a real castle before. The castle was not especially large, inside there were painted fiberglass statues to give a sense of life to the cold stone walls. It gave our little gang a great chance to run around and take picture after picture. Posing here and there it was like a photo shoot that very few would ever get to see. From there we wandered here and there but always heading back to where we started.
The day was finished. We got back to our plane and headed back home at the end or our whirlwind trip to Belfast and back again. It was a very beautiful country, with very kind people. The actual history of Ireland and Northern Ireland has shaped the people very differently from how American consciousness likes them to be portrayed. They certainly have their culture, and beliefs. I did not find them so alien that I could not recognize the parallels that we all share. I know not nearly enough about these people as a whole, however I do have some first hand experience.
I was living in Leeds England for the summer with two other people. We were Americans who had come to volunteer with a church. For most weeks we went on an excursion somewhere in the UK just to see the sights. This day the team hopped on a plane to Belfast. The flight was short and we were grateful for small blessings. The weather was so brisk when we got off the plane. I say brisk but what I really mean is cold, it was really cold. It had easily been 80º F in Leeds but when we arrived it felt like 50º. It doesn’t sound cold now but in the midst of summer it was quite a change of pace. That day the skies were very grey, they looked like rain but none ever came.
The first obstacle to overcome was finding a ride into the city. There were some very slow looking bendy buses, a few yellow cabs, and other assorted vehicles. Then my team saw it. There was a Jaguar in all of the rabble. I had never been in one and neither had my teammates. I can’t remember whose idea it was, but someone convinced the rest that we should totally take a ‘Jag’ to the city. I didn’t need to be convinced, we only had to persuade the driver to take us. As I stared out those windows I spoke very little. The silence was awkward but it allowed me to do what I like to do best while a passenger. I sat and stared out at the landscape as it swept by. I was often astonished that such an old country wasn’t drastically overpopulated. I imagined that Europe with all it’s history would have a more vast populous than my homeland. The other detail that caught my attention were the trees, or the lack of trees. The hills rolled on and on and they were covered with grasses and shrubs but not trees so much. It astounded me more than anyone else. It felt like there was a nakedness to the land, or perhaps it was instead immodestly dressed.
Belfast itself was not unlike other cites, it had streets and sidewalks that hemmed in buildings and small patches of grass. We had a bit of a miss with the meeting place. Paranoia helped us to wrongly decide that we should walk away from where we were. Down one street and up the next, the neighborhood was very quiet. Banners and flags hung from everywhere. They weren’t Irish flags but the English flag with a hand in the middle. It was a world cup year and an abundance of flags was the norm. We walked down one street to what seemed like a main street and every few blocks we could see piles of wood stacked ten or twelve feet high. It was all very curious. A timely phone call and a few minutes of retraced steps later we met up with our friends from the Belfast team. They did what we did but in a different locale.
Hugs and handshakes started our official tour of Belfast. We asked questions and got updates from all our friends. They even brought along a local kid who was gonna show us the town. We quickly stopped in at the house they all stayed at and got a cup of tea, as is custom. I discovered that those flags denote the “Ulster Scots” and many in Northern Ireland do not see themselves as “Irish.” Most importantly I discovered those piles of wood were not rubbish but instead they were for “The March of Orange” which is a huge celebration in Northern Ireland where they march to the border to snub their noses at the Republic of Ireland. Like a sibling who doesn’t want to admit that they are in the same family, very few would admit to being ‘Irish.’
In town we rode buses to everywhere we wanted to go. We wandered down to the markets and poked our heads in to stores looking for some “Irish” wares. I wanted a Claddagh ring for sure, my teammates wanted postcards. Whenever we mentioned it our teen guide would get very uneasy, looking around, whispering to us that the violence isn’t completely over yet. We finally came to a shop that we could call “Irish” they sold Claddagh rings, shillelagh, a silver scale replica of the Titanic, there was a lot of green. I picked out my ring and then we were on our way to see the sights. There were new buildings and old buildings and all done in a normal western style. Huge statues were in front of the Government building, there was great craftsmanship in these structures. From there we had to do the one thing we had not yet done in Europe.
Hopping a bus in the opposite direction we went away from the city center and towards the coast. We were going to a castle! I had never been to a real castle before. The castle was not especially large, inside there were painted fiberglass statues to give a sense of life to the cold stone walls. It gave our little gang a great chance to run around and take picture after picture. Posing here and there it was like a photo shoot that very few would ever get to see. From there we wandered here and there but always heading back to where we started.
The day was finished. We got back to our plane and headed back home at the end or our whirlwind trip to Belfast and back again. It was a very beautiful country, with very kind people. The actual history of Ireland and Northern Ireland has shaped the people very differently from how American consciousness likes them to be portrayed. They certainly have their culture, and beliefs. I did not find them so alien that I could not recognize the parallels that we all share. I know not nearly enough about these people as a whole, however I do have some first hand experience.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)